undeadfanstoriesfandomcom-20200214-history
Dead Frontier/Issue 74
This Issue #74 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled Animus. ''This is the second issue of '''Volume 13.' Issue 74 - Animus Alexander impatiently rises from his couch when he hears rapid knocking on his door. When he opens it, he’s surprised to see Cole standing in the corridor, hands and clothing caked with blood, his face fixed into a pleading expression. “What happ--” Alexander begins. “I need you to forget any of the issues we had before,” Cole says. “Everything. Whatever opinions I had about you, I don’t care about any of that. In a week, Marsh has fucked up everything, everything you started here and anything you dreamed of building. I know we had some problems and disagreements or whatever, but you’re not a psychopath. Not like him.” “....Okay. Calm down. Come inside.” Alexander coaxes him into his room and leads him to a seat at the dining table. “I’m sorry for--for poking around where I didn’t belong and whatever else you’re pissed at me about. I don’t care. But you’re the person that founded this place; you need to lead it again. Because under Marsh, it’s not gonna last. I’ll support whatever you do, I’ll try to not to give you trouble, I’ll--I just need my friends to be safe. We’ll have no other choice but to leave and try the road again, as long as Marsh is here. I don’t want that.” “So...” Alexander says, and he retrieves a water bottle from a cabinet under the sink, “you think Marsh is no good, too.” “I’m pretty sure he just tried to assassinate me and five other people, one of which is dying as we speak. And you’ve figured out he killed...almost half of the people living here by letting the infected loose? Of course he’s no fucking good.” “Assassinate you? Wait--you know about...about the infected?” “That’s why we think he tried to take us out. To take out anyone that knew. So we’re dealing with him soon. Really soon. But once he’s gone, we need someone to take his place,” Cole says. “And you’re asking me? Cole, these people here don’t even tolerate me anymore. I’m a Goddamn hermit in this room now. I--I can’t even leave without someone muttering insults under their breath, or...or looking at me like I’m the scum of the earth.” “And you’re going to let that stop you? You’re going to let Marsh ruin all of this?” Alexander sighs, and takes a seat across from Cole. He taps his fingers on the surface of the table. “So what are you suggesting we do?” “We’re killing him. Tonight," Cole says. “Bold.” “There’s no other choice, as far as I’m concerned.” “Maybe not,” Alexander says. “You’ve been a bit of an...annoyance since you’ve been here, but I never thought of you as the murderer type. Who’s doing the deed, then?” “I am.” “You?” “Me.” “Really?” Alexander says, and he scratches the side of his face. “What’s the plan?” He feels nervous, more nervous than he thinks he should be. “Duke is going to round up everyone, lead them to the auditorium. Billie and Devon will watch Marsh’s office and see if he leaves. If he does, they’ll detour him somewhere...into the lot most likely, or wherever they can get him alone. If he stays cooped up in his office, I’ll take him out there. This is where you come in. Down in the auditorium, either Billie and Devon will you give you a signal, telling you everything’s done. You need be on your game, Alexander. You need to convince these people you’re they’re leader, that Marsh is behind everything that’s happened in these past couple weeks. Can you do that?” “This is on short notice. I--” “Can you do that?” Alexander takes a few gulps of his water, simultaneously trying to calm his nerves and think of an answer to that question. “I can,” he says, although, he’s not sure. Not at all. ---- “People, people! To the auditorium!” Duke shouts from the middle of the lobby. People turn and look, annoyed, once again, to be disturbed from their menial duties. “It’s mandatory. No questions!” He stands at the escalator, urging people toward the auditorium. Joe stops and grabs Duke by the sleeve. “What’s this about?” he asks. “Very important stuff, Joe. You’ll see when you get there.” “Oh, alright. But what happened back on your run? I’ve been meaning to ask...” “Some fucked up shit, pardon my language. You can see Wrigley didn’t make it out, for one. But it’ll all be addressed down there. Go on, now.” Duke smiles warmly and pats Joe on the shoulder, leading the man away. From his position, he can see Billie and Devon, their eyes on Marsh’s office. “I feel,” Devon says as she sits at the far end of the lobby’s lower level, “we should’ve done this earlier. I mean, we had enough proof he let the infected loose.” “Agreed. And Adam and Wrigley would be perfectly fine right now,” Billie replies. “It’s all so fucking stupid, you know? First Robbie, one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Ever. Then Wrigley. Just a dog. The coolest dog, at that. And now Adam has two bullet holes in his chest because of this asshole. Oh, not to mention everyone that died last week. Kids, elderly, everyone. And he has the audacity to walk around with a smile on his face. Ugh.” She wipes a tear from her cheek impatiently. “You okay?” “I’m fine. I just wanted to come here, and relax, and live like a normal fucking person. But no, can't have that. It's frustrating, that's all. Wanna wring this fucking guy's neck in..." "Don't we all...but Cole's gonna deal with him. We'll be fine," Billie assures. ---- The corridor leading to the lobby is empty as Cole makes his way through it, hands in his pockets, gun in his waistband, cigarette dangling from his lips. Except his nerves aren't calmed this time and he's more on edge than ever. He puts out his cigarette in one of those trash cans with the built in ash trays, picking up speed. It's only a matter of time before Marsh gets hold of their plan to aggregate everyone in the auditorium. When passing through the lobby, he gives a thumbs up to Devon and Billie sitting at the far end. They nod in return, declaring there are no signs of Marsh leaving his office on the upper level, and hurry off to the auditorium with the majority of other residents. Cole heads in the opposite direction, up the escalators, and sees Archie pacing around a few meters away from Marsh’s office, his hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. “Aye, I thought everyone was supposed to be in the auditorium...” Archie says to him. “If that’s true, then why aren’t you there?” Cole responds. He pulls down his jacket, making sure his gun is concealed, and stuffs his jittery hands in his pockets immediately afterward. “Marsh told me to stay out here.” “Oh, really? Why?” “I dunno, man. He just said to wait for the knock, then I can go. Don't let anyone past this point. ” “That’s really interesting,” Cole says, and once only a few meager inches separate him and Archie, he retrieves his pistol and presses the barrel into Archie’s ribs. Archie gasps, but remains frozen in place. “I need your keys.” “Wh-what the fuck you need my--” “Give me your keys, Arch. And go. Straight to the auditorium with everyone else, alright?” “Okay, man. N-no need to argue with me. Just don’t fucking shoot me.” Archie fumbles with the key-chain attached to his belt loop and shoves the mess of keys into Cole’s palm. “Which one is for his office?” Cole asks. “Th-the gold one. With the number 415. That one,” Archie says. “Go. I don’t think I need to tell you not to tell anyone about this, right?” “‘Course not. Course not,” he stutters as he backs away and hops down the escalator’s steps two at a time. Cole searches for the gold key labeled ‘415’ before walking about twenty feet down to Marsh’s office. A few odd sounds come into earshot the closer he gets: a muffled sound that shares an odd similarity to weeping, and then a bang, followed closely by a yell. Cole wastes no time and shoves the key into the lock. It’s impossible not to notice all sound in the room cease as he pushes the door open. Cole aims his gun into the room, and it takes him a few moments to comprehend the sight he sees. Marsh has a knife clutched in his left hand; his right hand is wrapped around Hector’s throat. Hector’s back is pressed against the wall, and the duct tape covering his mouth causes him to choke on sobs. Hector sees Cole, and his eyes go wide in fear and surprise. Will he leave him here to die for what he did, or actually help him? Hector doesn’t know the answer, for he can’t decipher Cole’s expression. “What the fuck--” Marsh mutters before spinning Hector around and using the man to shield the majority of his body. Marsh presses the blade against the skin of Hector’s neck, and he lets out a faint scream that’s drowned out quickly with a sob. For the first time, Cole notices the splotch of red covering Hector’s shirt, and the thin line of blood on the knife. “Everyone knows,” Cole says. Those two words make Marsh’s heart fall, and he tightens the hold on his weapon. If only he could find a way to reach for the gun holstered at his side without giving Cole an open shot... “So you came here to kill me,” Marsh says. “I was doing you a favor by getting rid of this guy. Is this really how you wanna play it?” Cole calculates his words, all the while trying to steady his aim at Marsh’s head. “No one believes your bullshit anymore.” “So you’re going to...assassinate me?” He laughs insanely, his eyes darting around the room, but his gaze soon falls back on Cole. “Fucking do it then. You don’t care about this guy, do you?” Cole’s finger hovers over the trigger, but he holds back. “Let me tell you something. Fucking kill me. Please. Then I can watch over this God forsaken place and'' laugh in my grave'' when it’s demolished. Burned. To the fucking. Ground. Then you’ll think back to me, and you’ll know. You’ll know this was a mistake. When all of your fucking friends are dead, or tortured to the point of no return. You like the thought of that?” Marsh scoffs, genuinely surprised that Cole hasn’t made a move yet. “You’re such a fucking prick, you know that?” Marsh continues. “You and your pretty boy fucking face barge into this hotel, you think you’re tough shit and go stuffing your face where it shouldn’t be. And look what happens? It’s all down the shitter. All of it. Oh, you gonna pussy out now? Look at those shaking hands!” He laughs, but it’s weak and fades quickly. “I want you to shoot me, Cole. Please. Do it so I don’t have to do it myself. No? Alrigh--” Marsh’s head snaps back as the bullet flies straight through his skull. The knife falls from his grasp, and his dead body hits the floor.. Hector collapses onto his knees and holds his wounded stomach, blood dripping through the cracks in his fingers. When he sees Cole approaching, he falls onto his back and nods his head, silently pleading, although he can feel the stab wound already draining his life away. Cole kneels down next to Hector and observes his frantic state. He feels a myriad of different emotions, pity and rage among them. He looks at the gun in his hand, the barrel in prime position to blow out Hector's brains. He finally decides to holster his pistol and rips the duct tape from Hector’s lips. Hector squeals and mutters something incoherent in his native tongue. “Get up,” Cole says. Cole lifts him to his feet with careful regard to the stab wound, and puts Hector’s arm over his shoulders. During the entire trip to the medical room, Cole manages to ignore Hector’s blabbering and dreadful sobbing, not responding to any of his thanks. He taps on the door with his foot, and Chloe opens it. She just furrows her eyebrows together, but doesn’t ask any questions, instead opening the door wide for them to enter. “Is Marsh...?” Chloe asks as she and Cole set Hector on one of the beds. “Yeah,” Cole says. She gives a quick inspection of Hector’s wound. “Doesn’t look very deep...Daisy, deal with him please,” she says with a distaste she makes no effort to hide. A tall woman chatting with an older patient trots over. Cole sees a curtain pulled in front of one of the beds in the far corner, concealing the patient laying there. “He’s okay,” Chloe says, noticing Cole’s gaze shift to the other side of the room. Cole lets out a sigh of relief at the confirmation of Adam’s well-being, and asks, “Can I--” “No. He’s out cold. Won’t be talking for a few days, at least. But he’s okay.” Daisy pulls on a pair of gloves and removes Hector’s bloody clothes. He still blabbers, muttering something in French that Daisy can’t understand. Chloe grabs Cole’s arm and leads him out the room. “So you just...did it?” Chloe asks as she shuts the door behind them. Cole nods. “And everything else is going to plan?” “Alexander’s got pretty much everyone in the auditorium besides you guys. Marsh isn’t gonna spout his BS anymore.” “And you? You’re doing good with all of this?” “I’m okay. I just really want to...sleep.” Chloe smiles. “I think that’s well deserved.” “I’ll tell you how everything goes with Alexander.” Before he can leave, she says: “You know, getting rid of Marsh is probably one of the best things that’ll happen to this place. And you did it. So thank you.” ---- Cole enters the auditorium as Alexander is in the middle of a speech, his voice resonating throughout the area. “We don’t live in prehistoric times. We are not barbarians. We are not infected. We are people. And that’s how I plan to treat you. Like people that want to live, to restart society as it once was. Before Marsh entered the picture that’s what I planned to do...” This memorized rhetoric goes on for a while, and Cole knows he should listen but finds his mind drifting to other places. The future, for one. Marsh’s threat and Alexander’s promises for something better make his--and everyone else’s--fate foggy, but he can only hope for the best. He thinks about anything but this very moment because he feels sick to his stomach and wishes he could be anywhere but cramped in a crowd of people. Cole locks eyes with Alexander. “Right now, Marsh is dead,” Alexander says. “It was a necessary measure we needed to take. There was no forgiving the unfathomable things he did. It’s in everyone’s best interest we try to forget his short lived reign of terror and move on. Because we will move on. Thank you.” ---- When someone knocks on his door the next morning, Cole groans and covers his face with his pillow. "What?!" he shouts. "It's Lienne! Are you still sleeping?" "Not anymore." He rises and pulls on a shirt thrown across his couch. "Yes?" he asks as he opens the door. "Sorry to bother," Lienne says, "but there's a lot of us downstairs about to each lunch and we were wondering if you wanted to join us. A bit of a celebration for this new start and stuff." "Lunch? What time is it?" Lienne lifts her wrist and inspect an invisible watch. "About half past 1:00." "Oh. Didn't realize it was that late but I'll have to pass." She puts her hand on the door before he can close it. "Your answer doesn't sit right with me. I came up here expecting you to say yes. So say yes." "No." "Hm. You're a tough nut to crack. I'm coming in then," Lienne says. "Lienne--" he starts, but she's already pushed past him. "What should we have for lunch..." She scours his cabinets, reading off items. "Crackers, instant oatmeal, water...Your selection is mediocre at best. Hm." "I get you're trying to be nice, but I'm not in the mood for company right now. At all." "I just want to have a friendly chat and snack? Is that too much to ask?" "What about everyone waiting downstairs?" "They can eat without me. They'll live." She grabs a bowl and fills it with bland saltine crackers and takes a seat at the dining chair. She leans over to pat the seat of the chair to her left. "Sit, sit." Cole sighs, but Lienne smiles aand he gives in, taking a seat next to her and popping a cracker into his mouth. Their friendly chat and snack lasts longer than expected. An hour later they still sit around the table, but now Cole actually has a smile on his face. After three hilarious anecdotes from Lienne about her former job at the daycare, she delves into a more poignant one, and Cole finds himself listening intently. "So this kid's name was Joey," Lienne begins. "He was really sweet and short and quiet. You know, one of those kids that plays or reads books in the corner by themselves. So it was his first week there and no one really talked to him--I'd tried before but he'd blown me off--so I went up to him and asked, 'What are you reading?' "And it was this kid’s book, with nice illustrations. I forget the name, but it was about these different groups animals in the forest, and they were being terrorized by these terrible, terrible, terrible things. They never specify what, but they were fucking evil, stealing cute little animals from the forest and never returning them.” “What kind of kid’s book is that?” Cole asks. “I don’t know!” Lienne says, laughing. “Anyways, there were like, rabbits, and frogs, and bear cubs and everything, but they’d always rat out the location of other animals to save their own asses. Some heavy-handed allegory in that one, I’m telling you. But every day since he first discovered that book, he always read it. So, every day I read that book with him too. One of the other employees tried to take it away so he’d actually play with kids, but I shot that idea down really fast. "He was so fixated on it....and we’d even act it out and put on bunny ears and stuff. Then Joey’s parents decided to move across the country. Always wonder what happened to him. How he’s doing...” Cole notices her expression change into something more dark. He keeps his mouth shut, though, waiting for her to continue on her own. “He was one of the reasons why I didn’t go through with this,” she says, and she lifts her bandaged left forearm. “He was such a good kid. There had to be some good left, some kind of innocence, even now.” He’d always wondered what those bandages were for, and he recalls the one time he asked and she dodged the question. He’d guessed it was some kind of self-harm but, obviously, didn’t bring it up. But suicide? Her natural positivity made him throw that possibility out the window. “Oh,” he says. “I-I’m sorry. If things got that bad for you--” “The stupid thing was the things that’ve happened to me aren’t even that bad. So many people have been through worse, seen worse, and they’re still pushing on. Then I see one fucked up thing and there I go, ready to kill myself.” “If you...if you don’t mind me asking: what happened?” “Daycare. Overrun.” “Oh.” That’s all he needs to know. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I mean, if you are ashamed of it. I’m sure even the strongest of people have thought of it, at one point or another.” She leans back in her chair and crosses her legs, sighing. “Then you have?” “...At some low points, yes,” he says hesitantly and takes a sip of water. “I never tried. And I doubt I will ever try, but I’ve thought about it, definitely. It’s normal, like I said, but I keep all of that in my head because, you know, considering and possibly killing yourself can kind of spread bad vibes.” “Unless you...hang yourself next to a poster of a puppy. Then no one will care and they’ll be happy because there’s a puppy on the wall,” Lienne says flatly. Cole furrows his eyebrows together, then laughs loudly. Lienne grins as he finishes up his laughing fit and stands. “On that note, then,” Lienne says. “I’ll get going. Next time though, Cole, you better be at lunch.” “Y-yeah.” He chuckles once more. “I’ll be there.” Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories